


The Intersection of Nightmares and Daydreams

by So_Late_Into_the_Night



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Bi, Bisexual, Bisexual Male Character, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Gay Male Character, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, LGBT, LGBTQ, M/M, Nicknames, References to Drugs, Slow Burn, acespec, adam just has pretty bad coping mechanisms, he/they fergus, kind of, like it is but i skip over a lot of the slow, mlm, not presented in a good light dont worry, olly is tagged as ollie here because that is what ao3 has but he is in the series credits as olly so, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28915542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Late_Into_the_Night/pseuds/So_Late_Into_the_Night
Summary: Adam Kenyon meets the boyfriend of a girl he knows at a uni party. Years later, he’s looking at Fergus beside the Burnley Mill Engine in London’s Science Museum, and hurting with how much he wants to kiss him.·Mature rating because it is NSFW but not explicit. There will probably be characters who have sex, but nothing very graphic. I won’t be talking about specific body parts or anything. I am a minor.The usual swearing, but if you made it to series four of the show, you should be fine.
Relationships: Adam Kenyon/Fergus Williams
Comments: 29
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first moment. This is deliberately a very short chapter because it’s a small moment. All comments are SO much appreciated!
> 
> Trigger warnings for alcohol and drugs mention.

Adam poked his way through the liquors available until he found one that looked acceptable. He poured himself a plastic cup of it and sat down, accepting a joint from Greg, the host, and taking a puff of it then handing it back. This was what being a college student was all about, he mused. Drinking, sharing weed. Boyz II Men1 blasting out of the speakers.

He was on one of the uglier sofas, but it was comfortable enough. He was watching the people. At twenty, Adam was at the older end of the age range, but nobody there was younger than eighteen or at a push seventeen, really.

Verity, one of the posh bitches, came over, dressed in a sleeveless stretchy top, neon green, and some low-rise jeans.

“Adam!”

“Hi, Ver,” he said. Her brother had been in the squash soc with him, before he’d left Oxford. Adam didn’t mind her really.

“Hi,” she said, sitting down on the sofa and dragging some poor soul, a ginger bloke a little shorter than Adam, with her. “This is Fergus, my boyfriend.”

Fergus. What a fucking quaint name. Suited the guy in question, though.

“Hi,” said Fergus, shaking Adam’s hand. He had a beauty mark below his left eye, and his hair was nearly to his shoulders. “I’m Fergus. I’m doing communications and marketing at Bristol Uni.”

“Adam. Communications, media and culture at Catz.”

“Still don’t know why you’re at Saint Cath’s, Adam,” Verity said, sitting on Fergus’s lap. “It’s a shithole.”

“It agreed to educate me,” Adam said, shrugging.

Fergus looked a bit uncomfortable with Verity on top of him, and was looking at Adam kind of intently. The part of Adam’s brain that sensed when people weren’t straight was going off. Fergus liked men, and Adam had a sneaking suspicion that Fergus did not also like women. But he was dating Verity, which was a shame. Adam had been wanting to get some action at the party, and Fergus would have been a good candidate if not for Verity.

“Mm.” Verity was playing with Fergus’s hair, and Fergus let her while he talked to Adam.

“Communications. What do you intend to do with that?”

“I’m more focusing on the media aspect, if I’m honest,” said Adam, wishing he were more than tipsy. “I’d like to be a journalist.”

“Oh yeah? What newspapers?”

“Anywhere that’ll have me, at first. Don’t know really.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you? Where will your communications degree get you?”

“God knows,” Fergus said, laughing. “It’s cool though. I like it. And I’m very good at spin.”

“By which you mean bullshitting.”

“Oh yeah,” Fergus agreed amiably. “Absolutely.”

Adam snorted into his drink, then looked back at Fergus. Fergus was in jeans and a button up shirt, the same as Adam. Adam’s shirt was checked. Fergus wore stripes.

 _Girls & Boys _ by Blur came on the speakers. Adam grinned. Bisexual central, that song. And all the straighties dancing to it had no idea. But he could dance too. Sort of. He could try. He watched Verity pull Fergus up onto his feet and to the dance floor. Fergus danced with Verity, grinding himself against her. But when he pulled away from her for a second to take a gulp of his drink that he’d left on the mantelpiece, Adam could tell that Fergus wasn’t hard. Not that he was _looking_.

Adam took another shot of vodka and bopped up to Fergus and Verity. Verity flashed a smile at him, then told Fergus, “Wait there, yeah? Dance with Adam for a bit, I’m going to the loo.”

Fergus nodded.

Fergus couldn’t dance. Adam noticed this. But he was happy enough to put his hands on Adam’s hips while Adam bounced slightly on his toes in some semblance of dancing. Their hips brushed together every now and then, and Adam tried really hard not to get _excited_ , because Fergus would notice if he did. But it was Fergus who got excited. Adam could feel him, pressing into the top of Adam’s thigh as they swayed to Blur.

Adam raised an eyebrow, and Fergus smiled, pretending nothing was up.

Adam was very prepared to slip his thigh between Fergus’s legs to see if _that_ would get a reaction, but Verity bustled back in.

“Fergus, baby, come on,” she said.

Adam backed off.

Later on, as Adam was checking out the crowds to see if there was _anyone_ worth shagging who would let him shag them, when Greg stood up on a table.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourselves,” he called, extremely drunk.

The students cheered back.

“I’ve long been pestered to hold this party, and I really hope it lives up to your expectations now I’ve… finally opened my arms to you all.”

“Bet you’ve opened your legs to a lot of these too,” Fergus muttered. Adam snorted into his drink again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. “I’ll Make Love to You”, 1994. back


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is several years on, and Adam is working as a night editor. He gets a phone call from a bloke who was happy to grind against him at a party during college, and it goes from there.

“I can’t fucking help it, Angela!” Adam yelled, slamming his hands on the table.

“If you’d eat something, Adam….”

“Stop fucking mothering me. I’m fine. Fucking fine. We just need to get this story on the Irish in the special needs schools1. Okay? Because there’s so fucking many of them! Where the actual fuck do they come from?”

“Ireland,” said Marianne, handing Adam a wodge of papers. “There’s some statistics for you.”

Adam snatched them off her. “Fucking thanks.”

“Adam,” Angela put in. “Phone’s ringing.”

Adam screamed in frustration, shoved the papers at Angela, and yelled at the pair of women to get the article fucking done. He marched into his office, and picked up the phone.

“Yeah.”

“Umm, hi?” said a man’s voice on the other end. “Is this the _Daily Mail_ night editor?”

“Adam Kenyon. Speaking.”

“Yeah, Adam! Hi! It’s Fergus Williams.”

“Sorry, Fergus fucking who?” Adam said, rubbing a hand over his face. Fergus. Cute name. He liked it.

“Williams. Uhh, we met at a party once in uni. At Oxford. I came as someone’s boyfriend.”

“Umm….”

“I did communications and marketing at Bristol Uni.”

It came back to Adam in a memory of a drunken haze. A mop of ginger curls. A stiffy against his thigh.

“Fuck! Oh, right, yeah! Fergus, hi. Hi, yes, I remember you. Just about. We danced to Blur.”

A small, smothered laugh came down the line.

“Yeah. We did.”

“So why are you phoning me?” Adam said. Really. Some people. You had an office to run, a _Mail_ edition to get printed, and they fucking rang you for no reason.

“I have a proposal to make to you. How about we meet up for lunch one time? I know a nice place in town.”

“What sort of proposal?”

“For a job. One that’ll get you much better pay than night editor at the _Mail_. I’m not sure yet that I have it to offer to you, but how about we talk about it?”

“Yeah, great. Sounds good. Happy to get out of this shithole any time.”

They agreed a time and place.

A week or so later Adam found himself sitting at a table in some swanky burger place and stirring the ice cubes around his glass of water with his straw as he waited for Fergus to arrive. He perused the menu. How many fucking ways were there to make a burger?

The cheeseburger did look good. It came with pickles on it, though. Adam wasn’t a massive fan of pickles. Didn’t mind them, but didn’t adore them either. Enough to get a burger with pickles on it on what was probably the only time for ages that he would get lunch at a swanky burger place?

“Adam, hey.”

Adam looked up. Good _fuck_ Fergus had aged well. He still had the same beauty spot under his eye, his hair was short, and his body had got a little softer. He looked great.

“Hey,” Adam said. There were times, he mused, when he _really_ felt his attraction to men. It had been way too long since his last hookup as well. He stood up and shook hands with Fergus.

Fergus sat down opposite Adam and smiled.

“Are you still with Verity?” Adam asked. He winced.

Fergus laughed. “Fuck no. Broke up with her a few weeks after graduation from uni. Glad I did, too. Don’t want to spend my life with her.”

Adam nodded.

“What did your communications degree get you?”

“I’ve been working for Npower. Press. It’s okay. My talent for spin comes in handy, telling the general public that they’re somehow paying a fair price for their energy. It’s total fucking bullshit, of course.”

“I work at the _Mail_ , you needn’t tell me about bullshit,” Adam said. “So what’s this proposal you have for me?”

“I’m considering going for Parliament,” Fergus said.

A woman arrived to take their order. Adam asked for a cheeseburger without the pickles on it. Fergus just asked for his usual, and the woman smiled at him with a nod.

“Parliament?” Adam said.

“Yep. I’ve got in with the Lib Dems, and they’re up for it, they think I’m worth it.”

“The fucking _Lib Dems_?”

“I’m liberal!” Fergus protested.

Adam grinned at Fergus’s intonation. God, sixteen years and a bloke he’d met once before could still make him laugh.

“Yes, okay. Well, I wish you luck. What’s it got to do with me?” Adam said. He drank noisily from the straw in his glass.

“I’ll need a special adviser. I’d like you to be mine.”

“What?” Adam said, choking on his water.

“I’d like you to be my special adviser,” Fergus repeated.

“Yes. I… why?” Adam said.

“I don’t know many people at the moment,” Fergus said. “And I remembered there being some guy doing communications and media at some party of a friend of Verity’s, so I texted her and described you and after a bit she was like, ‘Oh yeah, that’s Adam Kenyon.’ So I asked Saint Cath’s about you, and after a bit of poking around in different newspapers I realised the _Mail_ had you down as their night editor.”

“That’s a lot of effort,” Adam said, accepting his burger from the waiter.

“Yeah, well. I knew precisely nobody else who would do. You were my best bet.”

Fergus was taking his bacon burger apart to put more ketchup on it. His hands were nimble. Adam liked good hands.

“Let’s say I do accept your offer,” Adam said. “How do we go about it? What constituency are you going for? Do you even have a plan?”

“Eastbourne2,” said Fergus. “In Sussex. And I do have a plan, but I’m not sharing it with you until I know you’re in.”

Adam considered for a second. “Yeah. I’m in. Fuck the _Daily Mail_.”

A couple of months later, Adam was sprawled on Fergus’s sofa, eating from a bag of “cool original” doritos. They’d bonded quite a lot, and were already swearing a lot around each other.

“You a _Star Wars_ fan?” Fergus asked. He was hovering at his cooker.

“Not really. Watched the original three when they came out, brought girls to one or two showings, blah blah. The usual.”

“Huh,” Fergus said. “Shall we get takeaway and split the cost, or shall we take the risk of me trying to cook something?”

“You order chips and I’ll cook fried eggs or something?” Adam offered, holding the doritos bag out to Fergus.

Fergus took a handful of doritos. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good. You can do fried eggs?”

“Yeah. You got bacon or anything?”

“Should be some in the fridge. Have a look,” Fergus said, taking more doritos and strolling around his living room / kitchen combination area.

Adam got up and started frying the bacon with onions as Fergus phoned the local chippy. The bacon smelled good, and Adam put in some salt. Everything needed more salt.

“That smells good. Fuck, you’re a good cook,” Fergus said.

Adam grinned, chopping up the rest of the bacon. “Thanks, mate. Here, give me a dorito.”

Adam’s hands were covered in bacon fat, so Fergus held out a crisp to Adam’s mouth. Adam took it, wishing he didn’t have an automatic instinct to use his tongue to steady anything he held with his teeth.

“So we’re working against the Tories,” Adam said. “How exactly do we plan to deal with that?”

“Fuck knows. Hey, put on a fucking apron!” Fergus said, lifting the loop of an apron over Adam’s head. It was black with a red star, and said “sod it let’s get pissed”.

Adam gestured to the writing and laughed.

“My sister gave it to me,” Fergus said, doing up the ties of the apron for Adam. “Shut up.”

Fergus’s knuckles brushed Adam’s back. Adam moved nearer to the counter so Fergus couldn’t see his crotch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. No idea if this is true. Just thought it would be the kind of nonsense that they would print. back
> 
> 2\. I mean, it had to be, really. back


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am aware the policy plotline is similar to the Silicon Playgrounds one, but whatever.

“Fergs, you ready to kick some Tory arse?” Adam said, walking into their (no, Fergus’s, as he constantly had to remind himself) office and throwing Fergus an orange.

“Fuck yeah,” Fergus said. He caught the orange, then elbowed Adam in the side affectionately, and Adam grinned back at him.

“Right,” said Terri, coming into the office in her little pastel coloured suit. Fergus rolled his eyes. “No, I’m sorry, boys, but you’re going to have to see me today because I have in fact got the press pack for your new initiative, the, um —”

“Parents and Guardians’ Initiative,” Fergus snapped. “Jesus, Terri, you’ve done a press pack for it and still can’t remember the fucking name of it? Shows what you fucking think of us.”

“Fergus, calm the fuck down,” Adam said, resting a hand on his elbow. “It’s okay.”

“Oh, and Stewart wants you in meeting room four in ten minutes,” Terri said. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, fine, now fuck off,” Adam said, bored. He hustled Terri out of the door and closed it behind her. “Now listen, Fergus. Stewart’s probably going to say something that’ll majorly piss you off, but you’re going to stay calm. Got that?”

“Yeah, got it. Fucking got it, Adam,” Fergus said, shaking Adam’s hand off his shoulder. Adam hadn’t even realised he’d put it there.

“Great. And here, we can fuck off to the pub afterwards, okay?”

“Yeah.” Fergus looked a bit more pleased.

Ten minutes later, they walked into the meeting room. Emma and Phil were already there, bickering over something. Phil was very carefully drawing a _Millenium Falcon_ in red biro in his notepad.

“But if you hadn’t kept having sex with him, Emma, it wouldn’t have happened!”

“Phil, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t fucking know he was going to tell Malcolm fucking everything I said!”

“Is this about Olly Reeder?” Adam said, sitting down. Fergus touched his shoulder and he leaned to the side so Fergus could get in his seat.

“None of your business,” Emma told them, looking tired.

“You shagged Olly Reeder?” Fergus said, looking at Emma as though she had two heads.

“Not just that. She dated him for ages too,” Phil said.

“Phil, fucking shut up!”

“You had sex, actual sexual intercourse, with Oliver Reeder?” Fergus said.

“Why do you fucking care?” Emma snapped. “Are you jealous?”

Fergus’s ears went a bit red. “No. Of fucking course not.”

“Right, people, we need to focus. Teamwork makes the team work.”

“Christ. What the fuck do you want, Stewart?” Fergus muttered.

“I am here — sit down, Peter, Glenn — to organise the launch of the new Parents and Guardians’ Initiative, which I believe is the brainchild of our resident Lib Dems.”

“Not exactly _resident_. We don’t live here,” Adam said. Christ, some people.

“Yeah, just because I actually come in to work on time doesn’t mean I fucking live here,” Fergus told Peter.

“Anyway,” Stewart continued, “the Parents and Guardians’ Initiative.”

“Yes, what is that?” said Peter, looking gloomily into his cup of coffee.

Adam saw Fergus about to reach boiling point and stepped in to answer. “It’s an initiative to support home parents. Anyone who’s staying at home and missing out on a job so they can mind their kids, we’re providing extra supports to them, in the forms of childcare centres and homework clubs so the parents can work for a bit, places for clothes and things to be washed, or even financial support.”

“You’re paying people not to work,” Peter said. “Scratch that, _we’re_ paying people not to work. This department is.”

Adam watched as Fergus’s patience snapped.

“Fucking hell!” Fergus yelled. “People who can’t work! It’s for the kids, for Christ’s sake! Lots of people, especially single parents. Like your mistress, actually, Peter. ‘Cheater Mannion’, remember that? I bet your side girl and her kid would benefit from this little scheme of ours.”

“You leave his personal life out of this!” Phil told Fergus angrily.

“Anyway,” said Adam hurriedly, stepping in before Fergus ripped Phil’s head off, “it’s been given a yes from number ten, so it’s happening.”

“And Peter’s going to launch it,” Stewart said.

“Fucking _what_?”

“You joking me?” Adam said. Normally he’d be the one holding Fergus back, but Stewart had crossed a line.

“Look, guys, Peter needs a way to seem more modern. The main complaint about him is that he isn’t modern.”

“Because he fucking isn’t!” Fergus shouted. Adam put a hand on Fergus’s chest.

“Look, just don’t bother putting up a fight about it, okay?” Stewart told them. “Peter’s launching this, at eight o’clock Wednesday evening, community centre in Hackney.”

Adam slammed his front door shut behind Olivia.

“Are we doing this, then?” he asked. “We don’t have to. But I’ll have to leave early in the morning to get to the department building, so if you’re planning on staying over you’ll have to let yourself out.”

“You work for the government?” Olivia asked, tying her afro up into a ponytail.

“Yeah, special adviser. Lib Dem. But my boss isn’t really a standard Lib Dem. Does it matter, though?” Adam said, taking his shoes off.

“Nah, fuck it, let’s have sex.”

“Cool. Bedroom’s at the end of the corridor. I’ll just go get lube and a condom, yeah? Meet you there. Make yourself comfortable.”

Olivia nodded, and went to Adam’s bedroom. Adam locked himself in the bathroom. First one night stand for a while; he would be a bit out of practice. He shaved, then put on aftershave and deodorant. Then, armed with condom and lube, he went into the bedroom. Olivia was cross-legged on his bed, in her jeans and bra. Her chest was small. Adam allowed himself a look at her as he sat down and took his own t-shirt off.

“Want to get undressed, then?” Olivia asked, pulling Adam under the covers once he’d put the condom and lube on the bedside table.

Adam nodded desperately and pulled his jeans and socks off, leaving him in his boxers only. He lay on his back as Olivia straddled him so he could undo her black denim jeans and slide them off her hips. She clambered off him to rid herself entirely of her jeans, then looked up at him.

“I can take my knickers off, yeah? We’re doing this?”

“We’re doing this if you want to,” Adam said, and performed his best charming smile.

Olivia pulled her white lacy knickers off, then straddled Adam again, after pushing the duvet off the bed. She leaned forward and kissed him.

Adam let his hands wander over her back to the clasp of her bra, which was bright green with blue dots all over it. Marks and Spencer, probably.

“Can I take this off you?”

Olivia nodded, then once he’d done it she slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and repeated his question back at him. He consented, and she removed his underwear.

“So, what are we doing?” Olivia said busily. “I could finger you if you like.”

“Do you often finger the men you sleep with?”

“Some of them. The women like it, too.”

“You’re bi?” Adam said, running a hand along her shoulder.

“If you have a fucking problem with it…” Olivia began.

“No,” Adam laughed. “No, I’m bi too.”

“Why are you so fucking pleased with yourself?” Phil snapped at Adam.

Adam looked up. He had actually been sort of sauntering around all morning, so Phil’s question made sense.

“I pulled last night,” Adam said sniffily. Not like Phil was good enough to know about Olivia, who had been absolutely _incredible_ and had even left Adam her number using the number-shaped magnets he had on his fridge. It was in his phone.

“Ha!” Phil said. “I don’t believe you, it’s nonsense, you’re about as attractive as Luke Skywalker when you compare him to fucking Han Solo.”

“Well, the bird I was with last night disagreed,” Adam said, giving Phil the middle finger.

“You were with a bird last night?” Fergus said, arriving late and hanging his bag up.

Adam turned to look at him. “Yes, why?”

Fergus shrugged. “Just make sure you’re safe about it. I don’t want to have a special adviser with an illegitimate kid.”

Adam grinned and led Fergus into his office with a light touch to the small of his back.

“So, the policy’s being launched tomorrow night. We should probably have a look through the press pack and check Terri hasn’t bollocksed any of it up too badly, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Fergus said. “You want to come over to mine after work then and we can watch the launch on the telly together? I’ll buy takeaway, Chinese or something.”

“Sounds good,” said Adam, smiling to himself. He enjoyed his evenings at Fergus’s. Fergus’s disgusting, one-bedroom house, with its gross sofa that Adam hated sleeping on. Fergus’s house, whose only redeeming feature was its occupant.

“Great,” said Fergus.

“I mean, we could go to mine,” Adam offered, knowing full well that his flat was a lot nicer than Fergus’s place, even though, objectively, Fergus’s smart two-storey house should be better. Fergus just didn’t take care of it.

“No, it’s fucking fine,” Fergus said. “Mine’s fine. I mean, unless you’d prefer we go to yours.”

“I like your house,” Adam said. “It’s not the sort of place I’d like to bring a girl back to, but I love it for watching telly with a mate.”

Fergus nodded and opened the folder. “Let’s get started then.”

Adam let himself into Fergus’s and yelled for Fergus. No answer. Adam assumed Fergus must be out, so he closed the door behind him and hung his coat up, then started poking around Fergus’s kitchen.

Fergus’s place was perpetually a mess. Shirts in various stages of the laundry process littered the floors and the plate from his breakfast was still on his table. Remnants of the significant amount of time Adam spent there were scattered around too: the toothbrush in the bathroom, with _Adam_ written on it in sharpie because Fergus only owned two toothbrushes and they were otherwise the exact same; the few ties in Fergus’s wardrobe that were actually Adam’s, although their ties were slowly becoming shared; the rice krispies that were in the cupboard even though Fergus hated them.

Fergus’s laptop was open on the kitchen counter. Adam wriggled the mouse, leaning on his forearms to browse Fergus’s laptop.

It was open on fucking porn. Adam was debating whether to press play to see if the girl was fit, because only a guy was in shot where it was paused, when the key started to turn in the lock. Adam slammed the laptop closed and went into the living area, which joined onto the kitchen.

“Hey, Fergs,” he called.

“Hi,” Fergus called back. “I got you chow mein.”

“Thanks,” Adam said, opening the takeaway bag and looking at the labels on the containers, separating his chow mein from Fergus’s sweet and sour pork.

“Any news?” Fergus said, picking his laptop up. He opened it and quickly switched to a different window. Adam pretended not to have seen the porn.

“Nothing major. I think they’re launching it on the BBC,” Adam said. “Where’s the fucking… fucking remote?”

“Down the back of the sofa, probably,” Fergus said, tipping the takeout onto plates.

Adam retrieved the remote from down the back of the sofa, and switched the telly to the right channel. He accepted his chow mein from Fergus and held his fork between his teeth as they settled onto the sofa.

“How badly is this going to go?” Fergus asked Adam.

“Very, probably, but we won’t have to deal with it until tomorrow, so can we please just watch this and then leave it aside until we’re in DoSAC again? We both need some fucking sleep.”

“Yeah, you do because you had a fucking hookup two nights ago,” Fergus muttered, digging into his Chinese.

“Jealous of my sexual prowess? Wishing you could get all the girls?”

“What was she like? What did she look like?” Fergus asked.

It briefly occurred to Adam that it was a bit of an odd question, but he decided to answer.

“Bit shorter than me. Black, with an afro. Not particularly skinny, small tits, quite a boyish figure. She had bright yellow eyeliner on.”

“How old?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Younger than me, but not by more than about three years.”

Fergus made a non-commital noise, then elbowed Adam when Peter’s simpering Tory face appeared on the telly.

“This is going to be a fucking disaster. It’s _so_ clear that it’s not a Tory policy.”

Peter climbed up onto the stage and started the preamble about how delighted he was to be in a community centre in Hackney.

“Was she good?”

“Who?” Adam asked through a mouthful of chow mein.

“Your… your hookup.”

“Yes, she was good. Now can we please fucking watch this. I don’t know why you care so much about my sex life.”

“Don’t like to think that you having to spend so much time clearing up the mess of my political career is keeping you from having some nice time yourself,” Fergus muttered.

Oh.

Adam’s heart dropped. Fergus was fucking _concerned_ for him. For his stupid fucking sex life. It was sweet in a sort of painful way.

On screen, Peter was explaining the policy. He was actually doing an acceptable job, until a man in the front row put his hand up and asked a question.

“Minister, I don’t work, I stay home and mind the kids, but I’m not a single parent, I’m married and everything. Alex works, office job and everything, but it’s really not enough, and we’d hate if our kids were denied this support simply because Alex works. Am I eligible for the initiative?”

Fergus rolled his eyes. “Yes, you fucking are, no matter how many jobs your Alex works, mate.”

“Well,” said Peter. “I think, um….”

“Steve,” supplied the man.

“I think, Steve, that you are eligible even though your wife works.”

“Husband,” said Steve.

“Fuck,” Adam and Fergus said together.

“Husband…” Peter said. It was very painful to watch the penny dropping in slow motion in his head.

“Minister, I have a husband. I am a gay man,” said Steve. “I assume this doesn’t affect my eligibility or lack thereof?”

“Oh, fuck me _sideways_ — Fergus — this is going to cause such a big stink in the fucking papers,” Adam groaned.

“You’re the one who said we’re not going to deal with it until DoSAC tomorrow,” Fergus said weakly.

“Fine,” said Adam. “Christ alive, it was a really fucking good policy too.”

Two days later, most of the drama had been sorted out. Peter had made a formal apology to Steve, and had even shaken hands with Alex, and Adam was tired of the whole bullshit nonsense. He went home, put on jeans and a t-shirt, applied a smudge of eye pencil along his waterline, grabbed a checked flannel shirt, and headed out to the gay bar he frequented, the Panther.

The atmosphere was muggy in the bar. Adam ordered a J2O — he had a massive aversion to having sex while drunk — and tried not to let it remind him of Fergus. He sat at the bar stool, making sure he looked as queer as possible. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him he was at a gay bar, but his years of being labelled as straight by others who knew he’d fucked a woman were still there in the back of his head. Adam liked to think he was very obviously bisexual, but apparently not. He surreptitiously cuffed his jeans and let his flannel shirt lie loosely over his frame.

A blonde, thin man came and sat beside him.

“Hiya, darlin’.”

His accent was not that of a native English speaker.

“Hi,” Adam said, and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the wetness of the gel he’d put in it before leaving home.

“Rough day?” said the man.

“Yeah. I work for the government, and one of my boss’s policies is quite messy at the moment. Adam, by the way.”

“Hänsel.”

Adam shook hands with Hänsel, who was in skinny pale blue jeans with a black belt and a white shirt. Adidas shoes; very Queen at Live Aid.

“You like men?”

“I’m at a fucking gay bar,” Adam said, then realised he’d snapped. “Sorry. Had a bad day. I’m here to take my mind off it.”

“Wanting a charver?”

It took Adam a second. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice with the Polari1. Umm, maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t generally launch into sex without kissing first.”

“Want a kiss?” Hänsel offered. “And then we can see about the sex.”

Adam nodded, and allowed himself to be pulled into a hot, musty kiss that tasted of J2O and sprite. There was some tongue to it. Hänsel hopped off his bar stool to step between Adam’s legs, as Adam remained sitting.

“Can we dance?” Adam asked, pulling away.

 _Heaven is a Place on Earth_ was playing as Hänsel pulled Adam to the floor and danced with him. Good song, but it brought back memories for Adam. Being fifteen, in the dark closeness of a packed school disco, grinding up against rugby prodigy Brian Tickner and feeling _alive_ for the first time ever. That disco had concluded with Brian on his knees in front of Adam in the school hall bathrooms. It had been Adam’s first orgasm. He’d gone home, shocked at his discovery both of his own desire for other boys and of the concept of sexual pleasure. He’d learnt how to masturbate that week.

Adam dared to cant his hips against Hänsel’s, and slipped his arms over Hänsel’s shoulders, pleading internally to be drawn into another hot, sticky kiss. Hänsel provided beautifully.

Half an hour later, they were in a taxi back to Hänsel’s place.

“I have a flatmate,” he explained, “but she should be out with her girlfriend. And she doesn’t mind when I bring people back.”

Adam nodded, feeling the pure adrenalin he always got from intimate time with men.

They went into the flat, and Adam ended up thoroughly compromised in the most pleasurable way, on his stomach on Hänsel’s bed with a pillow under his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of a man groaning out Adam’s name as he finished.

Two evenings later, Adam sat on his sofa in a large t-shirt and some checked pyjama trousers, flicking between _Antiques Roadshow_ and _Millionaire_ on his telly. He’d had two hookups, Hänsel and Olivia, in the course of a week. He hated it, but whenever that sort of thing happened he heard all the people in the past who’d told him bisexuals were all promiscuous. He knew full well he’d be out on the pull just as much if he was gay or straight, but it was hard.

His phone beeped. Olly Reeder.

_Can I call you?_

Adam texted back in the affirmative, then picked up when Olly did so.

“Yup.”

“Adam, hi.”

“Olly, hi. Can I help you, or are you just phoning me to be an annoying bitch?”

There was a brief pause, and then Olly blurted, “You like men, don’t you?”

Adam’s heart stiffened.

“Are you trying to blackmail me? Saying you’ll tell my Tory colleagues —”

“No,” Olly interrupted. “No, of course not.”

“Okay,” Adam said.

There was a pause.

“Adam, can I come over?”

Adam let Olly in. Olly was wrapped in a smart woollen coat a bit too big for his skinny frame, and his hair was free from gel and curling over his forehead. He had a blue scarf, and was in a striped shirt, with jeans. He was a bit wet from the rain.

“You want a shower or anything?” Adam offered.

“Nah, I’m okay,” Olly said. “I came here for you, really.”

“Care to explain what’s happening?” Adam asked, letting himself get backed against his wall.

“Want to have sex?” Olly asked.

“Yes please,” Adam replied, sinking into Olly’s kiss.

They were both half-hard already; Adam could _feel_ Olly pressing into his hip, just like Fergus had at that party… but that wasn’t a thought he was going to allow himself to have. Olly was trying extremely hard to get his tongue down Adam’s throat. Adam did not mind. He sucked on Olly’s tongue for about ten seconds, then pushed him away.

“Get your coat and things off, you’re fucking soaking.”

“We’re going to fuck, though?” Olly said, crouching down to take his shoes off.

“I mean, if you want to,” Adam said, watching Olly’s arse.

“Great. I’m topping though.”

“Why?” asked Adam. “I wanted to top you.”

“Because it’s less gay if you top. I did classics at uni, you know.”

“I’m bi,” Adam said.

“Cool, me too.” Olly was in his shirt, jeans, and socks. “Bedroom?”

“Yeah. Condom and lube are in the bathroom, one sec.”

Adam grabbed the condom and lube, then allowed Olly to take the duvet off the bed and push Adam down onto the mattress. Adam slipped a hand into his jammies and groaned into Olly’s hair as Olly sucked his neck way too high up.

“That’s going to leave a mark, you fucker,” he said.

It was warm in Adam’s room. He had the heating on. Adam was sweating a bit, and when Olly paused to rid himself of his shirt, Adam took the opportunity to put some deodorant on. The nice stuff, that smelled of mint or some nonsense. Olly then removed Adam’s shirt, and started biting along his chest. Adam grunted, loving it. He’d missed having sex with men like Olly, who just knew what he wanted. Hänsel had been good, really soft, but sometimes Adam liked the less soft men too. Olly took his jeans and socks off, then looked back at Adam, who was trying to pretend he didn’t see that Olly was in underwear from Sainsbury’s.

“Can I take your PJs off?” Olly asked.

Adam nodded, then when he was naked he pulled the underwear off Olly. They went back to snogging desperately, making out entirely inappropriately for a special adviser to the government and one to the opposition.

“Condom,” Olly said. Adam handed it to him, and he went to tear the pack open with his teeth.

“No, use your fingertips,” Adam said. “You’re not meant to use teeth or fingernails, ’cause you could tear the condom and that would ruin the whole point.”

Olly opened the pack with his fingertips, then put the condom on. Adam handed him the lube, and let Olly get to work with his fingers. Soon they were just mindlessly rutting, which Adam actually quite liked. Olly was sweating too, and Adam finished with a desperate grunt just before Olly did.

Olly pulled out, and lay beside Adam.

“Fuck, that was good,” Adam said.

“Mm,” Olly agreed, running a hand gently along the inside of Adam’s thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A sort of slang language used by queer people in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, petering out nowadays. Look it up for interesting reads. back


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am aware this chapter has a similarity to another fic on here, but it was unintentional. I actually wrote this chapter ages ago, planning for it to be a separate thing.

Adam woke up slowly, and realised he was being spooned from behind. He turned his head slightly and saw the oh so familiar mop of ginger curls. He immediately began to panic: he _couldn’t_ have, he’d never have done that. Not _Fergus_. But slowly, as he took in his surroundings, it came back. Fergus’s speech at that ghastly community centre, their stroll to the pub and subsequent stumble back to the awful Scottish youth hostel. A twin room, two beds. Fergus, the lightweight1, crying for cuddles and clambering in with Adam. Fergus had been blackout drunk and was still fast asleep; it was _vital_ that Adam didn’t let him know what he’d done.

Adam got slowly out of the bed and registered that both of them were stripped to their underwear. He was reasonably sure they hadn’t had sex, though.

He left Fergus dozing and had a shower. Fergus pressing against him… that image wasn’t going to go away quickly. And Adam’s body was taking notice of that fact. He tried to be quiet as he leant back against the shower wall and touched himself.

Fergus and his beautiful soft ginger hair; the way Fergus smiled, only for Adam, when nobody else could see; Fergus’s stupid hands and the way one of them had been on Adam’s chest when he’d woken up; the tiny grunts that Fergus let out as he played a shot in squash; the way he didn’t exactly mind how tactile Adam was; Fergus, everything about the stupid prick.

His voice, his voice when he fucking _swore_ ; the fact that he shouted at everyone so easily and without a second thought but almost never raised his voice at Adam; his body, Christ his body, his beautiful soft mid-thirties squash-playing body and the way it moved, the way his shoulders looked when he raised his arm; his dark eyes when he stared at Adam unerringly and the tiny beauty spot under one of them; his body plastered against Adam’s before he’d got out of bed…. If Adam had shifted back just a little, he would have been able to feel….

Adam grunted as he finished, then let the water of the shower run over him as he cooled down. It occurred to him that he’d just wanked thinking of Fergus.

He promptly shelved that fact for another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ferg is a lightweight and I will not be convinced otherwise. back


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squash can be homoerotic, okay?
> 
> Trigger warning for drugs.

“Oh, fuck, _Fergus_!” Adam said, groaning and swinging his squash racquet in desperation.

“Ha.” Fergus grinned. “Fantastic.”

“That _was_ good play1,” Adam admitted, pushing his sweaty hair out of his forehead.

“Thanks,” Fergus said, following Adam back into the changing rooms. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“Fucking hell, Adam! Jesus _fuck_ you’re a fucking bastard!”

“Keep your fucking voice down, a junior minister shouldn’t be swearing!” Adam said.

“You fucking beat me, you fucking… fucking _wanker_ … christ, I hate you!”

“No you don’t,” said Adam.

“No,” Fergus sighed, “I don’t.”

Adam smiled, thanking whoever was Up There that what Fergus said was true.

“Adam!” Fergus called. Adam looked over, and Fergus winked, biting his lip. Adam promptly swallowed his own tongue and fumbled the shot.

“What the fuck was that?” Adam panted, leaning his hands on his knees, once he’d regained the ability to speak.

“Tactics,” said Fergus, grinning. “And it worked.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Adam said, trying to hide his blush he could just _feel_ on his neck, and desperately hoping he wasn’t starting to fancy Fergus Williams.

They started playing again, and Fergus — clumsy as ever — crashed into Adam and knocked him over. Adam coughed as he got the wind knocked out of him, then felt Fergus’s hand on the small of his back. It slipped lower, and time stopped for Adam Kenyon as his boss got a hand on his arse.

Adam could hear his heartbeat in his ears, pounding, just fucking _pounding_ away. He could feel his eyes widening at the feeling of Fergus’s beautiful hand. He’d felt Fergus’s hands on him often enough before, but never on his arse; that was different.

Adam stood up slowly, and felt Fergus’s hand slide off him.

He felt wrecked.

“You fucking cunt!” Fergus screamed.

Adam smirked and let himself get shoved up against a wall. He was so rarely on the receiving end of Fergus’s anger — and he was so certain it was never genuine anger at him — that he loved enticing Fergus to snap and shout at him.

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I,” he said, and bucked his hips up into Fergus’s. He was semi hard.

“Fuck off,” Fergus said, letting go of him with a shake of his head. Adam felt the confusion beginning to cloud in his head.

“Jesus,” Fergus said, grinning, as they walked off the court. “Can’t believe I got beaten by my special adviser, fucking _again_.”

“Yeah, but…” said Adam. “I’m not just your special adviser, mate.”

“That is technically your job,” Fergus said. So fucking casual.

“Yeah, but we’re mates,” said Adam, undressing for the showers.

Fergus didn’t respond. He had already undressed and was standing under the shower head, running his hands through his hair.

“ _Fergus_?” Adam said, standing in his shorts with his hands on his hips.

“Jesus fuck, what?”

“We’re mates,” Adam said, a tad desperately.

“You said.”

“I’m your mate, yeah?”

“You’ve told me. At least three times now,” Fergus said, rubbing the back of his neck with the water.

Adam still hadn’t continued undressing.

“You consider me your friend, yeah?” Adam asked. “I mean, fuck, we play squash and everything.”

“Olly Reeder plays squash with Dan Miller and it doesn’t make them friends.”

“They are friends. Olly likes Dan,” Adam said, frowning.

“Oh yeah, and since when are you an expert on Olly Reeder?”

Adam thought back to the most recent time Olly had fucked him deep and hard into his mattress.

“Don’t know.”

“Shut the fuck up then. Just because we play squash doesn’t mean I want you to be my fucking best man or anything.”

“Who are you fucking marrying?” Adam demanded.

“Fucking nobody, it’s an example. Christ, Adam!”

“So why do we play squash then?”

“Some bullshit about making us work better together?” Fergus suggested.

“Piss off,” Adam said tearfully, pulling his polo shirt back on. “I’m not going to work today.”

“Adam, calm the fuck down,” Fergus called after him.

“Gah, _fuck_ I have not missed this,” Adam gasped, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” said the woman, rubbing his back. “It’s rough.”

“Thanks for the coke,” Adam said lamely to whatever her name was. “Sorry for not fucking you.”

“It’s fine,” she said.

Adam winced as he felt the drugs in him.

Fergus was going to be so disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know essentially nothing about squash, sorry. back


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This hurt me to write just as much as it hurts you to read it.
> 
> Trigger warnings for transphobia mention and self harm mention.

Adam met Emma on his way up the DoSAC stairs.

“Fergus looks in an awful state,” she told him. “Did you two have a little domestic yesterday?”

“Fuck off,” Adam told her. “You want to go chat up Olly Reeder?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m with someone.”

“Who?” Adam asked, mildly surprised.

“Does it matter? Listen, Fergus is up there. He’s been annoying the fuck out of us all because he’s no good without you. Go and talk to him, will you?”

Adam nodded. He stopped in at the loos on the way past, and checked his hair. It occurred to him that he really didn’t need to check his hair to see his his friend.

No, his boss.

They weren’t friends.

Fergus had made that abundantly clear.

“Adam,” Fergus said with a brief nod, as Adam entered their floor and sat down at his desk by Phil and Emma’s. “Could you come into my office for a second, please?”

Adam nodded.

“Take a seat,” Fergus said, gesturing to the small sofa. “Listen, Adam, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do,” said Adam darkly, sitting down. “What the fuck was that yesterday?”

“I don’t know,” Fergus said. “Why did you get upset?”

“Upset, fucking _upset_ is not what I was, Fergus.”

“The fuck were you then?” Fergus demanded, standing in front of his desk and looking frankly terrifying, albeit terrifying in a small, ginger way.

“Hurt,” Adam muttered.

“What?” said Fergus. He was talking loudly, and Adam really wished he had a stress toy to squeeze1.

“I was hurt, okay? Because I thought you considered me a friend, you know, I thought that, yeah? And then it turns out you don’t care, and that _hurts_ , okay, Fergus?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You… I thought we were friends, you gave me that impression. And then you won’t even let me call myself your friend, you say I’m your _special adviser_ and I know I am but I thought that wasn’t all I am to you, Fergs, that’s all.”

“I do care, you fucking cunt,” shouted Fergus. Adam flinched. “I care _so_ much, okay?”

“No you fucking don’t,” Adam scoffed. “I spend my _life_ cleaning up after you, Fergs, and what do I get in return? Fucking nothing.”

“You don’t spend your life cleaning up after me. You have a life outside of DoSAC and you know it.”

“Barely. Shitty sex every now and then, and that’s about it.”

“You said the bird was brilliant.”

“Yeah, she was, but… I haven’t had a girlfriend since we started your election campaign.”

“Well, sorry. I haven’t either.”

Adam decided not to point out how obviously gay Fergus was.

“I worry about you all the time, okay Adam, when I see you skipping meals — yes, that’s right, I have eyes — or when I see you coming into work every day looking exhausted, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the scars up your fucking arms —”

“Don’t you fucking dare mention those!” Adam roared, smacking the table with a hand.

The world stilled. He’d yelled at Fergus. He’d just yelled at Fergus. Fergus had leant away, and was looking down at Adam on the sofa.

“Okay,” said Fergus. “I won’t. Because I don’t mean any of it, Adam. I don’t fucking care, okay? I just don’t want to find a new special adviser.”

“What?” Adam whispered. “But I’ve always been so good to you.”

“Oh, have you,” said Fergus, still speaking loudly and making Adam’s ears hurt. “Have you really, Adam Kenyon, _Daily Mail_ employee.”

“Used to be,” Adam protested.

“Well, there are articles out there with your name on,” Fergus said, and the disturbing thing was how quiet he’d gone.

“Yeah, there are. I wrote some, before I was editor. Why?” Adam said, trying to sift through the (largely repressed) memories of his time at the _Mail_ to think what might have upset Fergus.

Adam could see Fergus trying to decide whether to tell him something.

“Fergs, just fucking say it.”

“Fuck off, Adam, it’s not easy, okay? To fucking come out.”

“You’re gay?” Adam asked, his heart leaping.

“Fuck off!” Fergus snapped, turning around quickly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Besides, I know it’s not easy, okay?” Adam returned.

Fergus frowned, but didn’t take the bait.

“Piss off.”

“What is it then?” Adam said, mildly impatient.

“I’m trans,” Fergus blurted. “No, wait, shit, I don’t mean like that. I wasn’t born female, I’ve got a male body, I just… it doesn’t suit who I am.”

“And who are you?” said Adam levelly.

“I’m kind of… a bit male. I don’t know.”

“So what’s different now you’ve told me this? Is there a different name? Are you still a ‘he’?”

“No, the name’s fine. I like it.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Adam.”

“What?” Adam said, spreading his arms.

“All your fucking _Daily Mail_ articles! You think people like me are just men trying to get into the bathrooms to attack little girls, you think anyone who’s not strictly male or female is a trender, all this shit, Adam, it hurts!”

“Calm down!”

“I won’t fucking calm down, you’ve hurt me!”

Adam stood up and held Fergus’s arms gently. “Calm. Down. You’re talking loudly, and most of our colleagues are Tories. I doubt you want them to know this, and certainly not finding out from overhearing us arguing.”

Fergus nodded eventually.

“Fine.”

“Besides, I don’t think that nonsense and I never did. They were throwaway articles to get paid.”

“It’s not throwaway for me, Adam. It’s my best mate fucking hating who I am.”

“So I’m your mate once you’ve got something against me?” Adam demanded. “Wow, Fergus. Fucking brilliant.”

“Fuck off, that is not what this is about!”

“Listen, I may have hurt you with what I said about the transgenders, but you’ve hurt me too, bitch.”

“Piss off,” Fergus said, nearly crying.

Adam flinched, having never seen Fergus cry before. Not when sober, at least.

Adam reached back behind his neck to undo his lanyard, his little ID card that said _Adam Kenyon — Special Adviser to the Junior Minister for Social Affairs and Citizenship_ , and handed it to Fergus.

Fergus looked at it. “What’s this?”

“I resign,” said Adam simply.

“What?” Fergus whispered. “You what?”

“I resign. I don’t work for you any more. I don’t work at DoSAC. It’s over.”

Fergus dropped the ID card, fumbling it, and swore.

“ _Fuck_. Adam, you can’t, you work for me….”

“Not any more. Get Glenn to work for you. Piss off, Fergus. We’re done here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ADHD Adam is firmly lodged in my head. back


End file.
